Drama Masks: Drawing the line

This is Drama Masks, a Bay Area performing arts column from a born San Franciscan and longtime theatre artist in an N95 mask. I talk venue safety and dramatic substance, or the lack thereof.

A lot of “five years on” pieces about the COVID pandemic have come out in the last few days. Some even had the courtesy of saying “since the start of the pandemic” rather than omitting those three highlighted words. Hell, I write this shortly after reading this piece from The Guardian about how we still-COVID-cautious feel like outsiders in a world that was once united in tackling the health crisis of a generation. “We are not post-pandemic,” one interviewee says. “We’re post-precautions. COVID is still here.”

SF was once thought the safest place on Earth regarding COVID, and it’s particularly disappointing that, given our history confronting AIDS, we’ve seemingly fallen in line with the rest of the world in terms of protecting ourselves. It’s up to us to stand up for our most vulnerable, and transform the current paradigm. What stands out about the two shows reviewed below is how they’re both about drawing lines in the sand and taking positive change into one’s own hands.

Neither show is about COVID, but the topics of both—xenophobia and toxic masculinity—are also pressing problems in this trainwreck we call The Fall of the American Empire. The common thread running through both shows is that it isn’t too late to lead someone down the right path. Considering who’s “in charge” right now, the idea of reversing years of brainwashing seems appealing.

OPERA PARALLÈLE’S THE PIGEON KEEPER WORLD PREMIERE

It’s always weird which things you wind up doing because they’re part of your job. I’ve seen plenty of major productions by the SF Opera and countless indie productions by Opera on Tap (all the way back to the SF chapter’s days at the Café Royale), yet Opera Parallèle always eluded me. Not sure why? Conceptually, their amalgamation of classical style, modern storytelling, and indie-theatre resources is the very thing that speaks to me. Who knew it would take 18 years for me to finally see what they’re all about?

That’s how I wound up at Fort Mason to catch the opener for The Pigeon Keeper, whose world premiere ran from March 7–9 at the Cowell Theater, SF. Not a bad venue, and it was full, even with the Superfine Art Fair occupying the entire groundfloor. Of course, that full audience led to my Aranet4’s CO² readings jumping up to 1,103ppm before the show even started, peaking at 1,219ppm by the final bow. As one of the few masked, I was once again aware of all the chronic coughers around me.

But I digress: Our story finds us on a Mediterranean island where young Orsia (soprano Angela Yam) works as a fisher with her father, Thalasso (baritone Craig Irvin). Orsia’s mother and baby brother died years ago at sea, something Thalasso inexplicably blames on another ethnic group, represented by the titular Pigeon Keeper (tenor Bernard Holcomb), so named because of his ability to call birds to him through apparent supernatural means.

One day, Orsia and Thalasso are fishing when the body of a young boy (Shayla Sauvie) pops up. The lad doesn’t say a word, but leaves a strong impression on the father and daughter. The stern Thalasso isn’t welcoming to the thought of another mouth to feed, so he gives Orsia three days before the kid has to leave. When she begins to see reminders of her brother in the kid’s eyes, it becomes more and more difficult to send him away.

The libretto for The Pigeon Keeper (by Stephanie Fleichmann; composition by David Hanlon) is one loaded with ideas. It brushes against grief, bigotry, survivor guilt, isolation, and found family all in the same show.

Unfortunately, by stuffing them into a single 80-or-so minute opera, none of those topics get the exploration they desperately need. One wonders if the use of children (as chorus and stagehands) means the show was meant for a younger audience? Even so, the topics get lip service, at best. Thalasso’s xenophobia is never elaborated on, nor do we ever see the supposedly distasteful people on the other side of the island. The Pigeon Keeper is more plot device than person, which just muddles whichever elements of the story are meant to be tangential and which supernatural.

The cast are certainly adequate in their roles, particularly Yam, who spends the most time onstage. The production design by Jacquelyn Scott makes god use of limited resources (aided by projections from Jessica Drayton), and the “school play” element of the interactive young chorus is a welcome addition. The story proper doesn’t measure up to the talent assembled, however. Perhaps as a traditional three-hour opera, every element would get the breathing room it deserves. As it stands, it comes off more like an eager ensemble giving their all for a work-in-progress.

PUSH/PULL WORLD PREMIERE AT CENTRALWORKS

I hope I don’t need to explain all the predatory sexual accusations made against everyone currently in the White House? Not just the cabinet, but also the right-wing blogger-bros who now reside in the Press Room. It’s like the Legion of Doom, except they’re all united against E. Jean Carroll. With that happening on a national level, we here in the Bay Area have been reading about how an insecure dude at a San Rafael school wants the term “toxic masculinity” removed from curricula. Once again, one wonders how, with all the right-wing jaw-flapping about “protecting our daughters from predators,” why do none of them ever teach their sons to, y’know, not be predatory?

Playwright Harry Davis must have wondered the same, since it sits at the core of his new play Push/Pull (world premiere through March 30 at the Berkeley City Club). The Central Works production focuses on 20-something Clark (Andre Amarotico) a mousy guy who wants to bulk up to reclaim a sense of manhood after a recent painful break-up. To that end, he turns to former high school classmate Nolan (Matthew Kropschot), a man-bun-sporting aspiring bodybuilder whose intense workouts go hand-in-hand with his frequent mood swings (hint, hint). If Clark agrees to watch him during training for a competition, Nolan promises—in no uncertain terms—to “make a man” out of Clark.

I wonder: is Nolan’s affinity for raw milk a dig at our current nepo baby health secretary? Chugging milk has been an absent-minded pastime for shitty people (particularly, white supremacists) for several years now, but this may be a direct shot at the guy who hasn’t a single accomplishment to his name, other than that name.

Yet, the greatest strength of Davis’ script is that it cuts to the core of toxic masculinity’s biggest hypocrisy: it thrives off of men being competitive (often violently so) rather than supportive. That’s considered a weak, feminine trait that has to be conquered by force. As directed by CW AD Gary Graves, the competitive nature of the duo (a CW trademark) comes off fine enough, but portrayal of support—emotional and physical—as a sign of strength is where the play really flies. There are hints of queerness here and there, but the ultimate message of vulnerability not making one “less of a man” is the sort of message from which quite a few “alpha bros” could benefit from learning.

As I caught the show during a Sunday matinee, the house wasn’t full. Since Central Works have also surrendered their mask requirements, only about half of us (at most) were masked in the intimate performance space. Over the course of the 70-plus-minute show, my Aranet4’s CO² readings peaked around 1,492ppm by the final bow.

Though I won’t spoil the ending, Push/Pull feels organic in its suggestion that it isn’t too late to wash off the stains of patriarchal poison. It’s a well-done chamber piece that feels uncomfortably of its time. It’s the sort of show you not only recommend seeing, but wind up wishing some guys had seen before they made some unfortunate choices in life.

PUSH/PULL’s world premiere runs through March 30 at the Berkeley City Club. Tickets and further info here.